


We don't Run

by sky_daybreak



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Billy Hargrove Tries to Be a Better Person, Brotherly Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson, Canon-Typical Violence, Found Family, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Good Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Good Parent Joyce Byers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Monsters, Multi, Neil Hargrove is His Own Warning, Not Season/Series 03 Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Period Typical Slurs, Protective Billy Hargrove, Protective Steve Harrington, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Steve may not be the best at fist fights but he's a champ at smashing monsters, an attempt to shove character growth down Billy's throat without the Mind Flayer, bamf everyone really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25550797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_daybreak/pseuds/sky_daybreak
Summary: Steve was certain that these kids were at once the bravest and most reckless people he had ever met. When the proverbial and literal dust settled after the Gate was closed, Steve found himself with the expected amount of new and old night terrors and unexpected new friendships with a bunch of brave, reckless middle-schoolers.Hawkins carried on like before, unaware of the pieces left to be picked up and the bigger, darker secrets once again hidden away from them. And amongst it all, Billy found himself forced to take a good long look at himself.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington & The Party
Comments: 16
Kudos: 78





	1. Fateful Night

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty nervous about posting in the Stranger Things fandom for the first time and I hope that someone might enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> The summary might not be the best or most elegant, but I hope it turned out well enough. Should I come up with better wording, I'll polish it up in the future.  
> What you can expect:  
> \- Grammar and spelling mistakes despite my best efforts  
> \- Steve looking after all the kids  
> \- Hopper and Joyce being great people  
> \- A lot of introspection, because I am physically unable to not write that  
> \- As much growth and interactions as I can shove at these characters  
> \- Everyone dealing with their trauma as well (or not as well) as they can  
> \- Long-ass chapters
> 
> Edit: I re-wrote parts of this chapter, because I realized I wasn't quite happy with how it turned out.

Billy learned fast and hard under his father, especially after his mother was gone and what protection she had offered with her. He learned to keep his mouth shut until he was spoken to, even if he wasn't always good at adhering to that rule. He learned to swallow fear and anger and the thoughts of _What did I do wrong_ and _Why don't you love me_ and _I hate you_ , until it felt like something was always burning in his chest, like the molten heat of every word he didn't dare say and every dark thought in his head.

He learned _respect_ and _responsibility_ , while his father's hand fisted in his hair or connected with his skin and the words lost all purpose and meaning and instead became bitter ash and acidic fear.

Billy learned to live around his father, to tread lightly when he was in a mood and to keep his head down whenever possible. To find his freedoms where he could and he learned, that as long as he said yes, sir and did as he was told, he could keep his bits of freedom most of the time. Knew when to be back at home, to keep his clothes orderly and clean, to ensure he didn't smell of anything and as long as he kept his voice steady when his father asked where he had been, his lies were believed. His voice wasn't always steady and no matter how careful he was, he couldn't hide everything and his father would rise from his seat and Billy would find himself shrinking back, any further words dying on his tongue.

He learned what excuses worked best at school, in the cases where Neil had left an openly visible mark. He learned how to breathe through the stinging burn of bruises and to smile with split lips and lie and lie and lie about what had happened this time. He looked teachers in the eye, saw that they knew he lied and they did nothing. Billy had no idea what they could do in the first place, but he wouldn't put his trust in them, not when he knew better and not with his father's threats bouncing around in his head like loose tennis balls full of spikes.

He built a reputation before he knew it and leaned into it when it made things easier, for a moment. It was easier to be angry and to be the one feared, the one stronger than others. The first time he truly made someone else afraid of him, he was a bit afraid of himself as well for just a second, but the rush of power, of finally having control over something, was too strong to resist. It was easier to make others scared than admit how afraid he was himself. When he made himself look big, when he trained to strengthen his body, he stopped feeling like a fucking coward for a little while. A coward who froze when he heard familiar steps in the hallway and who ducked his head the second his father came into view.

It was easier to drop surfing than to continue doing it and constantly feeling the pain of his mom leaving. Of turning around, out on the waves and not seeing her there, smiling brightly and happily and making him feel as though he could succeed at anything, as long as she was there and had his back. He started to hate the damn ringtone of their phone, because at one point she had stopped calling and she hadn't come back for him. Billy knew she wouldn't come back. 

His father blamed her disappearance on him and while Billy had to bite his tongue to keep quiet, to keep from saying that she left because of _Neil_ , he couldn't help the feeling of doubt that niggled in his chest. Maybe his father wasn't wrong. Billy certainly hadn't been reason enough to stay.

"She didn't even love you enough to take you with her," his father told him after letting him go and Billy kept his head down and gaze averted, shoulders hunched and curled inwards in a stance so familiar and hated. He felt tiny and weak and the words stole all breath from his lungs.

Maybe his father had been the reason his mother left, but Billy couldn't help but wonder, if he had been at fault too. His sight blurred with tears.

The older he got, the more Billy found excuses to stay away from home. School projects, tutoring some kids, helping a friend with college courses. Most of those were lies, but his father seemed gruffly satisfied that his pussy of a son at least wasn't a fucking retard. As long as Billy was back before midnight, he could go.

Billy hung out with his friends for as long as he could or charmed his way into staying with some of the older, hotter kids, the ones in college courses and laidback parents. The people who didn't ask him any questions and gave him the distractions he needed.

When his father brought Susan home for the first time, he hadn't thought much about it. His father's relationships rarely worked past the infatuation phase and Billy didn't bother to remember her name at first. As long as he cleaned the house and pretended to be polite and respectful, he could get out of the house for a bit after he stuck around for an awkward dinner together. Billy did not wish to know whatever the fuck Neil got up to with the women once he left and made sure to stay away as long as he feasibly could. The house had always been quiet, though, when he had snuck back in, just barely sticking to his curfew.

But Susan stayed and then he met Max and she was so fucking tiny and her eyes so damn blue. He didn't want them to stay. Some nights, he couldn't help but remember what his father had done to his mom and he wondered if the same would happen to Susan. If the same would happen to Max. He did not want them to stay. He did not want another mother or get a fucking sister. He told himself he didn't give a fuck about them and they'd only be trouble. The last part was certainly true.

A few months later, Susan married his father and he had thought he had never seen any-fucking-one dumber, but his father had always been good at pretending. Pretending everything was alright, pretending their fucking family was just a good ol' regular Brady Bunch. Susan had bought into it and she had brought her damn daughter into the mix. There was a moment, in the very beginning, where Billy was fucking terrified for Max, for this tiny little girl with her big, blue eyes and red hair that could so easily run redder with blood.

But his father never laid a hand on her. If it was because Susan managed to stick to his expectations and unspoken rules or because she was a girl and his princess, Billy had no fucking clue. It wasn't like his father had ever minded beating his mom. And of course, of fucking course, Billy ended up getting the blame for anything that ever went wrong in their new 'family', no matter if he was actually involved or not. 

He was blamed for not making Susan feel welcome enough, for not readily driving Max to and from school and whatever other shit bugged his father that day. For being a bad influence on Max, though she liked boy stuff all on her own and without his input, thank you very fucking much. But it wasn't like his father cared for his explanations, his _excuses_ as he called them and Billy had stopped trying to defend himself a long time ago. Even if he occasionally couldn't quite keep his mouth shut, he always quickly fell silent at his father's swift, usually physical reprimand. Some days it felt like he was chocking on fear and rage so potent, his mind whitened out the second he got out of the house and managed to find a moment of release.

He didn't know if Max knew what happened between him and Neil, because his father kept a lid on it whenever she was around. And Max was just a stupid little girl, who was out a lot, with the skateboard she had talked Susan into buying for her. So it wasn't like it was hard for his father to find the time for dealing with him. 

But Susan knew. The first time she had been there to see his father's hand crack against his face, Billy had gotten a glimpse of her ducked head, averted eyes and raised shoulders. And maybe, secretly, a tiny part of him had been hopeful before. Had thought maybe, maybe she wasn't his mom and he didn't want her to be, but she was _a_ mom and _maybe_ she'd help like his mom had. That hope had died a fast fucking death, that was for damn sure. He hadn't even been aware of that stupid, foolish, utterly idiotic hope until it had crumbled and withered in his chest and he knew, absolutely knew, there would never be someone between him and his father.

Sometimes, though, sometimes Max was kind of fine and spending time with her wasn't completely awful. Sometimes, when they both didn't want to be home, because it was date night and money was tight, so Neil and Susan had to stay in, they'd drive off somewhere. And sometimes, Billy let Max drive on an empty parking lot, just a few careful rounds and his hand on the handbrake the whole fucking time. Just in case anything went wrong.

She was mindful of his car and listened carefully to his instructions. It was easier, on those days, in the dark and with just the two of them and whatever music Billy loved at the time, to be a bit more patient with her. And when she grinned at him, when she got something right, he found himself grinning back at her despite himself.

To be honest, she was a pretty okay driver for someone who couldn't even reach the pedals without help and barely managed to look over the steering wheel. She kept it a secret too, from Neil and Susan and maybe, for a little bit, it made him feel a sense of camaraderie when he met her eyes and she gave him a tiny, secretive smile. 

She kept other secrets for him too, like the times she noticed him coming back home later than he should have and she just gave him a smile and didn't say anything when he tiptoed into his room. She had even covered for him once or twice, when he had stayed out too long on accident. She had even noticed when he hated bits of Susan's meals and whenever Neil left the table to get a beer or refill his water, she quickly picked them off his plate or switched them with something on her plate that she didn't like but he did. Susan always pretended not to see, which was just par for the fucking course. But, well, maybe he didn't hate mealtimes quite as much whenever that happened. He still hated them and Max was still annoying and tiny and he didn't want her, but she was alright, sometimes.

Some evenings, he sat on the curb, smoking and watched her practice her skateboard tricks over and over, telling her not to come to him crying if she got hurt. He'd watched her fall and get back up again every time, sometimes with tears on her cheeks, but always so damn determined. He had to hand it to the little shit, she had grit.

He'd even gotten her stupid fucking Wonder Woman band-aids once, because Max was maybe a little bit tough and Wonder Woman was a lot of tough. And not too girly, or whatever. Max didn't like too girly, whatever the fuck that meant. So yeah, maybe they weren't much of a family and he still thought things had been easier before Susan and Max, before his father put taking care of Max on his shoulders as well, but it could have been worse. Not that he'd ever say as much to her face.

And then, they had to move. It wasn't Billy's fault for fucking once, but instead Susan's and Max's. Susan's ex-husband just simply didn't know when to back the fuck off. Billy never met the man, but he knew he had come around one evening, because Neil had gone outside and returned angrier than ever. The next day, he had requested a move at his company and had been given a new job position in some fuck-arse backwards county. So, they moved. Away from California.

Away from all of the places Billy had carved out for himself. Away from his kind-of friends and people who he could hit up, be it for a smoke, a bed or couch to stay on or to fucking shoot the shit. People who let him rifle through their books and let him do his homework and studying around them if he cooked dinner or some shit like that. Billy had read so many different fucking books because of the people he hung out with and realized that, what was on a shelf, could say a whole lot about a person. And now he had to go away from all that.

Away from the beach and the ocean, which he still secretly loved and the memory of his mother seemingly clinging to the grainy sand. Away from the heat of the sun and the long days and pleasant nights and everything Billy had ever known since growing up. Away from the city and it's easy, comfortable access to everything and anything and its anonymity that he could slip into whenever he needed to.

They moved to Hawkins. Bumfuck, couldn't be assed to find it on a map if he had to, Hawkins. Billy hadn't even known a town like Hawkins could exist outside of stupid movies and dumb fucking cliché books. It looked dreary already upon their arrival. Nothing but dark woods and grey clouds and fuck, he wasn't a superstitious person, he really wasn't, but those woods looked like at least a dozen bodies had already been buried there and never been found.

He felt like he'd seen most of Hawkins just by driving through to get to their new house. It was only a little bit bigger than their old one and it had a second, tiny bathroom that Max and he could share, according to his father. Max's room was right beside his and Billy wondered if they would drive each other even more insane than they already did most days, sharing a wall and all that. Most of all, Billy was furious at her and Susan for having to move and since he couldn't even think of raising his voice against Susan, it was Max who he'd took it out on.

He had hated Hawkins before they had even arrived, because of everything he had had to leave behind. And seeing it, he decided that he still hated it. So he blasted his music whenever possible and ended up snarling at Max more and more, because she was the only one around he could snarl at, whenever his father wasn't home or didn't pay attention.

He could go nowhere at first. He didn't know anyone here in Hawkins and his father insisted he help unpack and set up the furniture and whatever fucking else Neil asked of him. His skin felt too tight and there was so much restlessness and always that dread clinging to his spine, whenever his father was in the house. Sometimes, it felt like his hands wouldn't stop fucking shaking and his chest was too tight for hours. 

Max was getting real good at snarling back at times, too, but he was still better at it. Billy had years more practice at being scary and a lot more size and weight to throw behind it. She was still so fucking tiny. And easy to scare and sometimes, that was the only thing that made Billy feel a little less like he wanted to claw his way out of his skin. Though, maybe, in the darkest, quietest recesses of his mind, he realized that, while it made him feel better to let go of some of the burning in his chest, doing it to Max didn't feel good. He couldn't stop though, didn't know how and he was still fucking _responsible_ for her. If she didn't listen, he'd be the one getting a beating for it.

When Billy arrived at school, he already knew that he'd take the place of whatever top dog there was and he'd be _glad_ for the fight it would bring. What he found, instead, was an empty throne and everyone still crying after whoever this Steve Harrington guy was. Billy felt like he had taken over with nearly no resistance and still he had to hear stories about Harrington. What parties he had thrown, what girls he had deigned to flirt with and that he was one of the best players on the basketball team.

So Billy grinned, self-confident and charming and listened and signed up for the basketball team, because he was a good player and it was honestly the only thing worth fucking signing up for in this sorry excuse of a school. 

He heard more rumors once he became friends with Tommy and Carol, heard that Steve was too good for everyone since he started dating Nancy Wheeler, had gotten beat up by the creep Jonathan Byers last year and hadn't thrown a single party since last year either. And then he met Steve Harrington and Billy was determined to make him understand he would have no more claim to any of his old fame. That just because no one in this shit town had any grit, didn't mean that Billy was the same. Hawkins High had a new king now.

Only, it turned out, Harrington didn't seem to care all that much. At some point, Harrington broke up with his girl or she broke up with his bitch-ass, but who cared about the fucking details. Billy half expected Harrington to try and take his throne back then. To come and give Billy the challenge he had wanted, craved, the whole goddamn time. Only, he didn't. 

Billy didn't get the guy.

Harrington wasn't even doing all that great in practice, though maybe the breakup was throwing him off his game, who knew. But considering everything else, this bumfuck town and shitty school, Harrington might just be shit at basketball after all. Billy knew he wasn't a top-notch player himself, had never bothered with really putting his back into it, but fuck, the guy sucked at planting his feet. So Billy planted his and Harrington crashed to the ground and it finally, finally felt a little bit like he got a victory.

Billy wasn't weird like Tommy could be when needling Harrington - he sensed some sort of history behind that, but it wasn't like he gave a fuck either. Harrington didn't seem to care much about the great ol' past, whenever Tommy said something. Oh, he was uncomfortable, at times even looked annoyed, but mostly he just seemed weirdly tired, or maybe done with the whole topic itself. Maybe he'd be more fun once he got over his heartbreak.

Hawkins was still a goddamn shithole, but with Tommy and Carol and the guys from basketball, Billy found parties to go to and have a good time at. It wasn't California and it never would be, but he felt like he might, finally, get some fucking footing back. He was still wound too tight from moving and losing everything and being stuck at home for too long, but maybe, given a few more weeks, he'd be fine again.

And then Max, the little fucking bitch, had to run off one night, when he'd been ready to go out and have fun and unwind a bit. He'd already been leery of her and those weird shitheads she had apparently befriended, but he hadn't quite expected her to just sneak out. She hadn't pulled shit like that before and so it blindsided him when she was gone.

Billy had never bothered getting to know her friends before, but it was becoming literally impossible not to notice and remember her new ones this time around. And Sinclair. Fucking Sinclair. And, of course, Max didn't know better than to stay away. Billy wouldn't have cared, personally, but Neil would hate it if she dated that kid. Sinclair hadn't seemed all that great either, the two or three times that Billy had caught a glimpse of him, but it would be Billy who'd pay the price in the end. Again and again, like fucking always.

His hands were shaking when he left the house, after his father had let him go. He told himself the shaking was because he was angry, because that was easier than admitting to being scared and feeling like the shadow of his father clung to his fucking heels like a snarling bloodhound. He focused on that anger until he was near seething and his chest didn't feel as tight as before. Billy silently seethed about a ruined outing, seethed about getting hit because of Max and her sneaking out. She just couldn't fucking listen, could she? He didn't ask for fucking much, he wasn't his bullshit father, but for god's fucking sake, the one time it mattered, she did her own damn thing.

It took fucking ages and flirting with unexpectedly hot Mrs. Wheeler, to finally get him a clue where his shithead of a sister might have gone. Billy was wound tight enough already, angry and secretly terrified and so fucking sick and fed up with everything. He didn't expected Harrington, when he arrived at the Byers house, but there he fucking was. And Harrington sounded like he didn't give a shit, like always, body language dismissive and he looked like this whole thing just wasn't worth his time.

And for a moment, Billy was wavering. Because he had enough shit to deal with and had no time for Harrington either, for fucking once. He wavered between leaving or shouldering past him and knocking on the door, but to be honest, that Byers house looked sinister as shit, standing in the dark with all those creepy ass woods around it. He wanted nothing to do with that. But then he spotted Max in the window with all those other shitheads and he burned with anger and the lies and that fucking shaking feeling Neil had left in him, finally got drowned out by something else.

Once Harrington was shoved to the ground, falling as easily as he did during practice, Billy stepped past him and walked straight into his greatest regret and possibly the biggest wake-up call of his life.

~*~

A big, warm hand at his shoulder drew Steve back into consciousness. Well, kind of. He blinked his eyes open, but everything was slightly blurry and he felt hazy. His head tilted to the side and he saw Hopper in the driver's seat, giving him a concerned frown. Oh, right, the Chief had taken him to the hospital after Steve had driven the kids back to the Byers house. Fuck, they really had survived and averted a monster apocalypse, hadn't they? And hadn't died in a car crash either.

"You good to get out on your own?" Hopper asked, voice low and kind of gravely. He looked exhausted and pale, like this night had been a damn punch in the gut for him as well. Maybe it was. Steve had no idea, he hadn't much talked to Hopper before.

"Yeah, sure." Steve fumbled the door open and stepped outside. His face felt strangely numb and big, which was most likely because of the swelling and the pain meds he had gotten from the doctor. At least they ensured that his head only ached dully.

Hopper was at his side within a second and guided him up to the house with a steadying hand at his elbow. Usually, Steve would have reassured the man that he was just perfectly fine, but considering he wasn't walking all that well right now, he was secretly glad for the bit of support. Joyce opened the door when Hopper knocked and she looked even more stressed than the Chief. Her dark hair was frazzled and she looked utterly exhausted. Still, she gave him a kind smile, her eyes quickly taking in the damage on his face.

"Hey, Steve, Hopper." Her voice was soft and hushed. "Come in."

Steve shuffled in and he wondered if he could stay the night or if Hopper would drive him home. He was well aware of the fact that he was in no condition to drive himself. Getting back to the Byers from the pumpkin field had been risky enough. Not that Steve would have let Max behind the wheel again, that was one heart attack inducing situation he did not want or need again.

The kids were all in the living room, lying on an air mattress and what looked like a real mattress that someone had dragged out of a room. They were covered in a pile of blankets and surrounded by pillows and squished as closely together as they could. Will had his head almost pressed against Mike's back, who held onto El and Dustin had thrown a leg over Lucas, whose shoulder was flush against Max's. Jonathan and Nancy were passed out on the couch beside the kids. One of Jonathan's arms was around Nancy, while the other dangled off the couch. Even in his sleep, his fingers were curled into Will's shirt, who slept sandwiched between the couch and Mike. Steve's heart gave a painful lurch at seeing Nancy and Jonathan and he looked away.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Joyce said, voice still soft and her hands were gentle when she took over Hopper's spot at Steve's side. They walked past the kitchen, where Billy fucking Hargrove was still lying on the ground, out cold. Whatever the fuck Max had given him must have been strong. He looked kind of peaceful, which was a weird thought to have about Hargrove.

"What about him?" Hopper asked, nodding at Billy. The Chief had heard about what had happened, Steve had told him on the way to the hospital, when Hopper had tried to keep him awake by asking questions.

For a second, Steve thought about pressing charges. But he was too tired and compared to tunnels full of demo-dogs and people-possessing Mind Flayers controlling and almost murdering little kids, Billy didn't look that monstrous. Just some asshole that lost his shit, not some dimension hopping flesh-eater or shadow creature, ready to tear into everyone and everything. That thought alone was enough for Steve to glance back at the kids for a moment. Brave, stupid, suicidal shitheads, the whole lot of them.

"Throw him out once he's up," he said, words slurring together just a tiny bit. "Just, talk to Max and Lucas first, if you can."

Steve had heard all about how Max had grabbed his bat and nearly nailed Billy's balls to the floor from Dustin and Lucas, when he had driven them back to the Byers. Dustin certainly had recounted the story with a lot of excitement and Lucas had looked so in awe, Max had ducked her head, both somewhat pleased at how they praised her and kind of tensing up at the memory of it. Or, he thought they had told him this story, his memories were really weird right now.

"If you're sure." Hopper dropped a gentle hand onto his shoulder, ducking his head slightly to look him in the eye. The Chief was so ridiculously tall. "But if you change your mind, let me know." He gave Steve's shoulder a gentle pat. "And thank you, Steve. You kept these kids safe and alive tonight."

Steve wasn't really sure he had done the best job. Then again, the kids had kind of kidnapped him when he had been passed out and they would have climbed down that damn hole with or without him. So he went with them, because they were just thirteen year olds, determined to save their friends and he was the only semi-adult around and he could at least try to protect them. Maybe his concussion had made him as suicidal as them, but he hadn't thought twice about following them down the rabbit hole.

He gave the Chief a kind of wobbly nod and Joyce led him down the hallway. Before he knew it, Steve was gently nudged onto a bed and found himself actually getting tucked in once he had kicked off his shoes. That hadn't happened to him in years. His parents were rarely home and his father had put an end to such things back when he had been a kid, citing that no son of his would be coddled and made a pussy. Joyce's hand briefly came to rest on his shoulder.

"Sleep, Steve. And if you need anything, I'll be right down the hall." She left, but didn't close the door and Steve was stupidly glad for that. His head was all weird right now. Joyce left the door cracked open far enough that the room was a bit illuminated by the light from kitchen lamp that was still on. And if he tilted his head a little, he could see a corner of one of the mattresses the kids were piled on. Steve heard Joyce walk away and his eyes fell closed, before he knew it.

When Steve woke up again and shuffled into the kitchen with a massive headache and aching limbs, Billy and Max were gone, as were Mike and Nancy and Hopper and El, though Dustin and Lucas were still around. The second Joyce saw him up, she ushered him straight back to bed, citing the orders the doctor at the hospital had given. Steve took his meds and she actually brought him some light breakfast and left a glass of water on the bedside table. It was only then, that Steve realized he had slept in her room. When he tried to protest, she firmly but gently shut him down.

"It's no trouble, Steve. The doctor said you shouldn't be left alone, nor should you drive." She gave him a smile and she looked just as exhausted as the night before, but relieved now too. As though she had finally relaxed from all the fear and terror for Will and Jonathan and all the others. "Eat and let us know if you need anything. Try and get some more rest, alright? I'll drive you home once you feel better, so don't worry about that."

There was no winning against her, he understood that when he met her gaze. She was a headstrong woman and he saw her fighting spirit still burning in her. The same sort of determination that had allowed her to cling to the belief that Will was alive a year ago and to claw her way through anything to get to him, no matter what anyone said about her. The same sort of steel spine that let her stand up to demogorgons and shadow monsters and demand her son back, come heaven or hell. And for some reason, she had decided to take care of him right now.

Despite everything, it was easy enough to sleep the hours away. The meds made it easier to drift off, numbing the pain and they were strong enough that they made him a bit woozy too. He woke up a few times, when people poked their heads in. Once or twice it was Joyce, asking him if he wanted to eat something or how he was doing. Then the kids dropped by the house again. Dustin was the first to show up and bound into the room, eyes roving over the cuts and healing bruises.

"You look like shit," Dustin declared, sitting down beside Steve, who gave a soft snort, only to immediately regret it. His head hated everything right now, aside from lying still and keeping his eyes closed. Dustin continued, "But, thank you. You know, for what you did. Helping us with Billy and the demo-dogs, that was pretty cool. Even if you lost that fight with Billy."

Steve huffed softly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He lifted his hand to rub over Dustin's cap and the kid gave him a grin.

"Well, someone's got to look after you shitheads, you got the survival instincts of fucking lemmings," Steve said and he ended up sounding fonder than he had meant to. He decided to blame it on the pills and his headache.

Then Lucas poked his head in, followed by El and then Mike and Will showed up and Steve soon had the group of kids, minus Max, sitting around, discussing everything that had happened. He finally found out the whole scope of what had gone down and from the very beginning on top of that. Once the kids found out that Steve only knew bits and pieces of what had happened last year, the filled him entirely, from how exactly Will had disappeared to how El had defeated the monster. Monsters even, considering she had saved all of them again just a day ago.

Will was pale and withdrawn and Steve couldn't blame him for it. That kid had gone through hell a second time and from what the others told him, it had been the sort of awful Steve didn't even want to imagine. Mike held onto El's hand the whole time, as though he was scared she'd disappear on him again.

When Dustin and Lucas started a heated discussion with Mike about letting Max join the Party and making Steve an honorary member, Steve felt his headache flaring back alive with full vengeance. To his relief, Joyce poked her head in a second later.

"Steve needs his rest," she reminded the kids and Steve noticed the way she looked at Will first, as though to ensure he was still there. "He needs to recover and you can talk just as well in the living room."

"Get well soon," Dustin said and took care to lower his voice, while the kids filed out of the room. He gave Steve's arm a very gentle pat. "You can't win any ladies over with that face."

Steve flapped a hand at him in lieu of rolling his eyes. He was pretty sure if he did that, he'd immediately regret it. Dustin left the door cracked open, like Joyce, and Steve closed his eyes, listening to the kids trudge away and still arguing amongst themselves. He heard Hopper too, the Chief was speaking with Joyce, but Steve couldn't understand their conversation.

It was easy enough, to fall back asleep, the kids throwing arguments back and forth and with the low hum of Hopper and Joyce talking.

~*~

Steve spent nearly a week at the Byers house, mostly because the first few days he hurt too much to go anywhere and Joyce was the sweetest sort of unyielding when it came to him recovering. Especially once she got out of him that his parents weren't home at the moment. The doctors had said he shouldn't be alone and so she firmly and kindly had told him he'd stay with her until he was better, unless he had someone else he could call. Briefly, Steve had thought about Nancy, before discarding the idea. While he was reasonably sure that she wouldn't turn him away if he needed help, he'd rather keep his distance for a bit longer. His heart almost hurt as badly as his head whenever he thought about her.

Now he was back home and a part of him was relieved to be here, in the silence and surroundings he was so familiar with. Another part kind of...missed the Byers house. Not because it was especially pretty or big or there was a great view outside the windows. But it had been nice, to have help when he needed it, that Joyce checked up on him without prompting and made him feel welcome.

Steve still had to stay at home a few more days though, doctor's orders, just to ensure he would recover well enough to return to school. Briefly, Steve wondered if his parents would get informed of this incident, but maybe Hopper's presence at the hospital, as well as the influence of the government branch that had been responsible for the Gates, would be enough to keep things quiet.

The house was cold, no surprise there, as Steve made his way up the stairs. It was clean as always, due to the cleaning service his parents paid to come by once a week while he was at school. And if Steve had thrown a party, he had always cleaned up afterwards. 

He stepped into his room and set his baseball bat with the nails down in the corner and half behind an armchair, so it hid the lower half but was still easily accessible. After changing into his pajamas, Steve carefully lowered himself onto the bed, even though he would have preferred to just fall into it. But his head still hurt and he knew better than to be too fast or rough with himself right now.

Drawing the blanket over himself, Steve sank into familiar pillows and his mattress with a soft, long sigh. Considering the horror of last year, Steve could expect some nightmares in the future, though. He hoped the nightmares wouldn't be too bad, he had just mostly gotten rid of the last ones after all.

Steve, truth be told, didn't know how Will and El handled it all. Will, who had been dragged into the Upside Down for days and had been possessed and El, who had lived a harsh, frightening life and still fought monsters better suited for horror movies than real life. Or even Dustin, Lucas and Mike, and now Max too, who kept fighting for their friends no matter what toothy maw awaited them at the end of a dark tunnel. Reckless, brave little shitheads, the whole lot of them. He hoped they wouldn't have any nightmares either. Or, at least not too badly.

Steve was out like a light within minutes and he didn't dream. Maybe it was because of the pills, or maybe because healing was exhausting, but his sleep was dark and quiet.

When he woke, it was to sunlight shining on his face and a headache pounding behind his temples. With a grimace, Steve shuffled out of bed and down the stairs to down his meds. Once they kicked in, he got himself cleaned up, though he didn't bother to put on something more presentable. He was sick and his pajamas were warm and soft and he didn't expect company either.

The ring of the bell startled him out of his thoughts and with a frown, he headed to the front door. Upon opening it, he found Dusting standing on the _Welcome_ mat, grinning up at him and he wasn't alone either, Max and Lucas were with him. Steve leaned against the door frame and lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.

"What are you doing here?" he asked and a quick glance down the driveway showed their bikes against the side of the house and that Max held her skateboard under her arm. It looked kind of broken and he wondered if it was still safe to use, even with all that tape. Steve hadn't seen Max again since that night in the tunnels and she seemed a bit paler than usual. He frowned slightly. Had something happened since Joyce had dropped him off at home?

"We," Dustin said as though they were doing him a great favor by gracing him with their presence. "Have come to check on you, since you're pretty much an honorary member of our Party now. And my mom made this." He held up a Tupperware container with a smile. It looked to be filled with chicken noodle soup.

With a snort, Steve took a step to the side and held the door open. The kids filled in, taking off their shoes when he told them to.

"We still have to officially vote you into the Party, though," Lucas added, as they put their jackets on the coat rack. "But Will is pretty much on our side and we should be able to convince Mike. Especially now that El's back."

"What makes you think I want to be part of your Party?" Steve asked as he headed into the kitchen to put Dustin's Tupperware into the fridge.

"Uh, why wouldn't you?" Dustin asked, half incredulous and half bemused and maybe a tidbit indignant, as though he couldn't possibly imagine why Steve wouldn't want to be part of their nerd circle.

"Are you alright?" Max asked, voice a bit softer than he had heard from her before. Though, granted, Steve didn't really know her that well. The first time he had met her had been at the junkyard and after that it had been just a mad scramble to try and keep the rugrats all alive. She was tough, he knew that much. And a terrifying driver.

"Sure." He turned to the kids, only to see the way Max's guilty look was quickly diverted to the side. Lucas didn't seem all that convinced either, considering the concerned furrow between his brows. Dustin didn't look overly worried, but Steve knew the little shit best out of all of them and didn't miss how the kid stood a bit closer and kept eyeing him.

"Why are you up anyway?" Dustin asked and sounded as though he tried to appear stern. "You should be in bed or something, doctor's orders."

"Well, kid, someone had to open the damn door," Steve said and found himself filing out of the kitchen, when Dustin started to head for his living room, his friends going with him. Steve knew he could kick them out if he wanted to. He wouldn't even have to be insistent or get annoyed about it, all he had to do was play the injured card and the kids would get out of his hair. He didn't want them to, though and refused to examine that thought closer.

At Dustin's insistence, Steve sat down on the couch in the living room. It wasn't the most comfortable piece of furniture, since his mother had picked it more for its looks than comfort levels, but it was alright. It was terrible for sleeping on, though. Steve had made that mistake a few times in the past and the backache simply wasn't worth it.

The kids plopped down on the carpet, sitting around the coffee table and they started talking about school and the next D&D session they had planned, especially now that El was back and Mike had grudgingly agreed to think about letting Max join too.

They ended up doing their homework at the coffee table as well, while Steve went off to reheat the soup and scrounge through the cabinets for a few snacks. The shitheads were delighted about the salted crackers he found, though Dustin leaned forward and declared, "If you want us to come by more often, you really have to get more snacks, Steve." 

"Who says I want you to?" Steve said, while pouring soup into bowls, but even he could tell that he sounded more amused than anything else. From the way the kids just grinned at him, they knew it too. With a careful roll of his eyes, he handed them the soup and sat down to eat with them.

The kids left an hour later and Steve watched them head down the road, as he closed the door. Dustin and Lucas were biking a bit slower, so Max had an easier time keeping pace with her skateboard. It looked to hold up under her weight, but Steve thought that she shouldn't use it. It didn't seem safe at all. The kids were talking and Dustin was gesturing so broadly that he briefly swerved away from the group, before redirecting. With a shake of his head and a wryly amused smile pulling at the corners of his lips, Steve closed the door. 

The house was still and quiet again now and this time, the quiet seemed too loud. Where last night it had been welcome, especially with his aching head, now it felt like a too tight jacket. Steve wasn't home much, no matter if his parents were around or not. He didn't enjoy sitting in the big house all by himself and if his parents were home, conversation was stilted and riddled with questions that felt more like mines, ready to explode if Steve said the wrong thing.

To his surprise, the kids kept dropping by while he had to stay home. A few times it was just Dustin by himself, but the rest of the time, he brought his friends with him. One day it was just Dustin and Lucas, another day there was even Mike tagging along. On the last day, before Steve would be back at school again, it was the whole group that visited, minus El. Hopper still couldn't really let her out, though he had allowed for the kids to visit the cabin during the weekend.

The discussion about Party members came up again, while they sat around the coffee table and the kids demolished the last of Steve's crackers. He'd have to get more sweets later. Maybe. If he felt like it.

At last Mike declared with a suffering sigh: "I _guess_ Steve can be an honorary member of the Party. On probation, though, we'll see how he does. But _no one else_ we're overfilled as is, with Max joining too."

Steve just shook his head, but a fond smile appeared on his face anyway.

Even Will had come with them today and he was still pale and a bit thinner than Steve remembered him being. There were shadows beneath his eyes and his smiles were faint. Steve couldn't help but keep an eye on him in case he got overwhelmed or became uncomfortable. The kids couldn't stay long anyway, with school the next day and their parents expecting them at home for dinner.

"Hey, Steve, pick me up tomorrow?" Dustin asked as he stepped out the door, his friends already walking down the driveway towards the two waiting cars. Mike and Will's heads were bent together as they headed for Jonathan, while Lucas and Max walked side by side towards Mrs. Henderson's car.

"Why the hell would I do that?" Steve asked, eyebrows rising and Dustin just grinned at him, carefree and cheerful, walking backwards to join Lucas and Max. Steve almost told him to watch his step and not trip over his feet.

"Because everyone else gets a ride and I don't want to be the only looser who doesn't," Dustin said, still walking backwards so he could look at him.

Steve raised both eyebrows, unimpressed. "That's not my problem."

"At seven on the dot!" Dustin shouted as he reached the car and clambered inside. Since Lucas and Max took the backseat, he was sitting shotgun. "Don't be late!"

"I didn't say yes, shithead!" Steve shouted back, only to have Dustin wave at him in parting, as the cars drove off.

The next morning, Steve was in the Henderson driveway, at seven on the dot and Dustin rushed out the house, yelling goodbye to his mom, before plopping in the passenger seat, grinning widely. Steve just rolled his eyes again.

"Thanks, Steve! Can I pick the music?" Dustin asked, already reaching for the radio.

"Only if your taste in music doesn't suck," Steve answered, while backing out the driveway. He got the creeping feeling that by showing up today, he would find himself a whole lot more in front of Mrs. Henderson's house. And maybe, he didn't mind that as much as he would have a year ago.

Steve remembered how Will had gotten dragged into the Upside Down last year. How the kid had just been on his way home when it had happened. Steve's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. Yeah, okay, maybe it was even a good thing that he picked up Dustin. El had said the Gate was closed, but what if another opened? Or if something had survived? And knowing these damn kids, they had no survival instinct whatsoever. They'd only get caught up in bullshit again.

"When are you done with school?" Steve asked with a resigned sigh and Dustin beamed at him, as though he had given the kid an early Christmas present. Huffing out an amused breath, Steve reached out to rub over Dustin's hat in lieu of ruffling his hair. "Don't read too much into it dumbass, I'm only picking you back up because I'm dropping you off in the first place."

The kid kept smiling happily, as he started talking about the AV club and all the cool stuff they got up to after class. And if it made Steve smile, while he looked away to check the side mirror, it wasn't like anyone could see.


	2. Guilty Conscience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After months, there is finally an update! I re-wrote parts of the first chapter as well, because I wasn't quite happy with how some bits of it turned out. Billy is still hard as fuck to write, but I hope I'll get the hang of his character one of these days.  
> Aside from that, I hope you have fun reading! =)

Billy wasn't used to feeling guilty, he hadn't allowed himself to feel that way for years now. However, since that night at the Byers house, guilt clung to his heels like a sinister shadow. It was constantly at the edges of his senses and crept up on him when he least wanted or expected it. He tried not to focus on it, to push it down and ignore it like all the other shit, but every time he let his mind idle, he thought back on that night. The rattle of the shelves behind Sinclair, the smash of the plate, the slam of the bat with the fucking nails between his legs. Sometimes it repeated on a loop just fast and often enough to become a demented sort of rhythm in his head.

Billy had always thought of Max as this little girl, a frail thing that he could break in two if he really wanted to. But when she had stood above him, bat held high and so fucking determined, even with slightly fear-wide eyes, he had thought that she didn't look so tiny anymore and that she could be terrifying if she wanted to. She had made him listen the way he listened to his father and the way he had made her listen to him before.

And then he had woken up the next morning with the Chief towering over him, face grim enough that Billy had felt an icy lurch in his chest and for a moment, he hadn't been able to breathe. He had thought that this would be it. His father would hear all about what had happened and Billy, this time, really had no one to blame but himself. It would be kinder to bury him in those fucking woods with all the other bodies, he was still half convinced were somewhere out there, than bringing him home or contacting his father.

But the things he had expected, hadn't happened. Oh, the Chief had scared the shit out of him, not that Billy would ever admit that out loud. The man was even bigger than his father and had the voice and weight and overall energy to throw behind his threats like a damn brick wall. Billy was sure that, should he step out of line like he had that night, the Chief could make him disappear and no one would ever find him again.

According to Hopper, the only reason he was allowed to walk out of the house, was because Harrington didn't want to press charges and Sinclair hadn't wanted to either. Max, who had peeked into the kitchen behind the Chief, had given him such a hard look, it had taken him by surprise, though maybe it shouldn't have. Her eyes had looked like sharp shards of blue glass.

Billy had driven home with Max and for once, the ride had been entirely silent, his mouth tasting as if he'd chewed at dirty cotton. Billy had wanted to fill the silence with something, music, blaming shouts, anything but this utter, frigid quiet. His hands had shook slightly all the way home and Billy had wanted to pretend it was because he knew his father would be pissed like never before, but the truth was the memories of the night kept gnawing at his consciousness.

Once they were back home, Max had spun some clever lie, a complete bullshit tale about a friend needing help and she had intended to drop by their place just real quick, but had ended up staying longer and when she had called the house to tell them she needed to be picked up, no one had answered. And since it had been too late to leave by herself, she had stayed the night. 

Billy had kept his mouth shut and had kept a side-eye on his father the whole time. And for a moment, he had seen that furious spark in his father's eyes and wondered if this was it. If this was the time he'd lift a hand to Max and Billy had been surprised at himself to realize that he had wanted to prevent that. Why exactly, he hadn't been able to examine in the moment, maybe a mixture of guilt and knowing how lucky he had been for no one to press charges and that Max had stopped him last night in the first place. Maybe because a part of him hadn't wanted tough little Max to go through the same shit that he did.

But Max had been earnest enough and believable enough, about helping a friend in need, that she was let off with some scolding from Susan and Neil and being grounded for a week.

Then Neil had pressed some money into Susan's hand and had told her to go buy breakfast with Max, that Max should help her mother before she wasn't allowed to go anywhere for the next several days. Billy had kept his head down and tried to keep his clenched hands from trembling, while Susan quickly and gently ushered her daughter out of the house. There hadn't been anything he could have said or done to negate the punishment anyway. 

His hands had shook for hours afterwards.

Max hadn't really spoken to him since that night. The only times she said something to him, was when she told him if she wanted him to pick her up or when Neil insisted they all eat together and even then, she was sort of talking _at_ him or speaking with her mother. Billy found he couldn't blame her for it.

Max met his gaze without flinching though, eyes always hard and her face edging close to an unspoken warning. He didn't doubt that she'd get that baseball bat again, should he ignore the promise he had given her. Wherever the fuck she had gotten that damn bat in the first place. Really, what kind of people were the Byers to own shit like that?

Billy had always made sure that Max knew they weren't friends. He wasn't her brother or her buddy, even if they could get along or he had taught her how to drive. Or, they _had_ gotten along, occasionally. If Billy was honest, ever since moving to Hawkins, they hadn't had any good day together. Because of him, that much he realized. The thing was, he had always thought that he'd be glad if Max stayed silent and kept to herself, staying utterly away from him. But coupled with the guilt he couldn't shake no matter how he tried, the silence and her hardness just ate at him.

Billy had been in his fair share of fights before. Though, granted, some of those fights could barely be called that, since the other kid had been weaker than him and he hadn't often picked fights with stronger or older people. There had also always been the fact that, the second someone complained to Neil about Billy being a problem, he'd get a beating for that. After all, two of the things his father demanded of him, was good grades and being responsible. Billy had therefore picked the kids that kept their mouths shut, whenever the feelings under his skin had become too much or someone looked at him funny on a day when his chest was tight and his teeth clenched and his mind far too loud.

So he had been in fights, sure, sometimes they had been ugly too, but nothing like that night at the Byers house. Billy had never gone for someone so much younger before. And sure, at the time, the thought of what his father would do, if he found out about Sinclair and Billy keeping the boy's friendship with Max a secret, had been a driving factor behind that snap of control. But it was a fucking weak-ass excuse at the end of the day. Same as with Harrington. Giving the guy a punch or two and shoving him back down probably wouldn't have dinged much on Billy's radar, but that fucking plate? Going after Harrington like that afterwards? Fuck. He couldn't get it out of his head.

Billy had lost control that night and there was fucking nothing he could do or say to excuse or defend that. He had tried, at first, in the privacy of his own head, had tried to explain everything away, only to keep circling back to it over and over again. He had snapped, lost it, plain and simple. Became the deranged asshole a part of him had always just waited for him to turn into. 

The problem was, he didn't know what to do now either. Apologizing was fucking useless. What was he supposed to say anyway? Sorry? There were some things a 'sorry' wasn't enough for and they wouldn't believe him either. Words were fucking meaningless anyway.

It didn't help that Harrington had been banned from practice due to his concussion and he hadn't been in the locker room or on the bench in three weeks, the first two weeks because he had stayed home and since then, because the doctor had strictly forbidden physical exertion. It was weird, how glaring and loud Harrington's absence was at practice and Billy noticed that he had become rougher at the other players, was quicker to snap at them when they made mistakes.

Harrington still looked a fright, the bruises painting sickly-yellow and brown-green splotches across his face. The rumor mills were going crazy and while neither of them confirmed or denied it, everyone suspected that Billy and Harrington had collided violently and that, due to lack of visible bruises on Billy, Harrington had lost.

Avoiding Harrington was easy enough, as much as ignoring him wasn't. They shared only two classes where they sat far apart and once Billy wasn't actively antagonizing him, he found they had few points of contact, especially with Harrington being banned from basketball for the time being. The weirdest thing, maybe, was that he had expected a reaction from the guy and didn't really...get one, not like he had thought. Harrington didn't give him angry or dark looks and so far, Billy had received no warnings or threats either.

Harrington had one hell of a good blackmail potential in his pocket after that night. Billy would be fucked fifteen ways to Sunday if pretty boy ever went and reported him, or went and talked to his father. Billy would do a whole lot of shit to avoid that, especially since the Chief had made it very clear on whose side he was on and his father would sooner believe a stranger than his own son.

But nothing. Harrington's eyes tracked him at times, if they were in the same hallway or when Harrington stepped into class, just barely avoiding being late. The guy was watchful, always and mistrustful, but he didn't look like he hated Billy or wanted him to drop dead on the spot. In fact, he seemed far more busy mooning over that Wheeler girl than feeling like taking revenge at Billy. 

It was weird as fuck and set Billy's teeth on edge just a little. Things never went easy for him and he waited for the other shoe to drop, day after day. Harrington wasn't the selfless kind, nor did he seem to be one of those bitch-ass pacifists, Billy was sure of that. Sooner or later, he'd want something and he'd come to Billy and use the leverage he had and Billy would agree, no matter how much he hated it.

"What's your fucking deal anyway?" Tommy asked, after they had grabbed their cafeteria food and had gone to sit outside. Tommy had his arm around Carol's shoulders like usual, who was busy pretending to take her time to unwrap her food, while she was clearly paying close attention to their conversation.

The sun was shining, which was getting rarer and rarer, as temperatures kept dropping and clouds covered the sky most days. It was getting stupidly cold, but it wasn't cold enough yet, for Billy to relinquish his favorite jacket or for him to button up his shirts. He wasn't a damn pussy after all and he liked how he looked, even if he had to make sure his healing bruises weren't easy to see. His bruises kind of had a similar color to Harrington's.

Tommy continued, "What happened between you and Harrington? You've gone quiet as fuck. He got one over you?"

"Fuck off." Billy shot him a look, before biting into his sandwich. Tommy was a weird one. Fucking insecure as shit and hung-up on Harrington for whatever goddamn reason and Billy wasn't willing to touch that with a ten-foot pole. "None of your damn business."

"What did he do?" Tommy asked, removing his arm from Carol's shoulders, who looked up and glanced between them. A grin with too much teeth spread over Tommy's face. "His face was busted, so he couldn't have won that fight. So, what happened?"

Billy heavily reconsidered his choice of hanging out with Tommy and Carol. He resisted the urge to grit his teeth or to go for Tommy's throat. He wanted him to drop the topic, but reacting to it would only confirm that something had happened. Which it _had_ , just not like Tommy thought. He didn't have to know that Billy felt guilty and both loathed the feeling and thought that he deserved it.

The thing was, Tommy and Carol weren't always dickheads. Tommy could be fun and he had good contacts and whenever Billy wanted to go party, Tommy somehow knew where to find one, even if it was a town over. Carol wasn't half as damn stupid as she pretended to be and she could be decent company, especially if it was just the three of them and Tommy was quiet. On the other hand, they could be so fucking annoying and Tommy sure as shit never knew when to mind his own business. 

"We didn't fight," Billy said after a moment and it wasn't a complete lie. That altercation three weeks ago couldn't have been called a fight, not with how quickly Harrington had gone down and how badly his previous punches had landed. Well, the ones Billy hadn't ducked away from. Harrington couldn't throw a punch worth shit. "You think it would be this fucking quiet after a fight?"

It would be quiet, if one party was scared and cowed into silence, but Harrington wasn't. He hadn't looked scared once, the times he had met Billy's eyes. Billy knew what scared like, knew how people avoided his gaze, how they shrank into themselves, their body language a silent plea to be overlooked. Had seen his own eyes in the mirror when his father's voice had called to him, that lightning quick flash of panic that became nausea in his gut and a racing heart in his chest and ice in his veins.

Harrington was none of that, he walked tall and didn't flinch. If anything, Harrington looked kind of tired. On the other hand, Billy knew how exhausting wounds were and that they sapped energy like nothing else. And it was obvious the guy was still heartbroken, so who the fuck knew if he spent his nights crying himself to sleep. 

Billy honestly didn't know why Harrington hadn't said anything, but he was still wary and guilty enough to keep his own mouth shut as well. And maybe, deep down, a part of him was so sickly grateful that Harrington hadn't pressed charges.

Tommy frowned at him, throwing his arm back around Carol when she leaned into his side. "You feel sorry for him now or what?" Tommy tilted his head slightly. "Didn't peg you the type to be so fucking soft."

Billy set down his sandwich and lit a cigarette to avoid doing anything else with his hands. He had done stupid enough shit recently and a part of him didn't quite trust himself anymore. If he snapped again, there might be no Max with some miracle drug and nail-studded bat to reign him in. The thought calmed him somewhat, but he still felt some anger simmer under his skin. Inhaling deeply, he focused on the slight sting of nicotine and exhaled heavily, purposefully breathing towards Tommy and Carol, who recoiled with crinkling noses.

"I'm not soft, but think for a fucking second. Use that stupid brain of yours," Billy hissed at them and tried to swallow past the ugly guilt that was slowly replacing the anger and once again started to scratch at the inside of his ribs. Fucking shit. "Harrington's watched and cooed over by every bitch in school right now. Freshly broken up and injured? You want to fucking tangle with that?"

It was a piss poor excuse, but it worked well enough and Tommy backed off with a derisive scoff and a frown. Dropping the topic, Carol and Tommy now started to bitch about and tear into schoolmates, while Billy sat back and ate the rest of his sandwich. The honest truth was, half of him wanted to go and antagonize and poke at Harrington. No one else was nearly interesting enough or would have provided Billy with the needed high. And no one was just so fucking...different. Harrington seemed intend to subvert all of Billy's expectations and until a little while ago, that was a challenge he had unknowingly burned for. But Billy had fucked things up spectacularly and now he was stuck stewing in his shitty thoughts. He hated it.

Lunch was over a few minutes later and Billy was half glad for the distraction of class. He was good at school and he did enjoy the assignments most of the time, they gave him something to do and focus on and figure out. After school, he went to pick up Max and to drop her off at the arcade so she could meet with the other nerds. Neither of them talked about Sinclair and Billy had decided to keep his mouth shut about the black boy she was friends with. He would have anyway, Billy wasn't a rat and he especially wouldn't have ratted Max out to Neil. But, well, he didn't look forward to his father finding out and the whole thing exploding in his face.

Harrington, ever since he had come back to school, face bruised to hell and back, drove some of the kids around as well. Billy certainly saw him often enough at the arcade, usually with that kid with the mob of curly hair, but often enough Sinclair was there as well and sometimes one of the others.

They never acknowledged each other, but the shithead kids tended to stare at Billy whenever they noticed him, before they headed into the arcade or piled into Harrington's car. Jonathan Byers was there most afternoons too, along with Nancy Wheeler in the passenger seat and Billy caught the glances Harrington shot them when he thought no one was looking. But on the day Byers' car wasn't there, Harrington somehow wrangled four ankle biters at once.

Max took her sweet time today and Billy bit back a remark about how slow she was, when he saw the skateboard she had with her. It was fixed up with duct tape and he remembered stepping on it weeks ago, hoping to drive home his point to stay away from Sinclair. Better his foot on her skateboard than his father's fist in his face. And if that didn't work, his father _would_ turn to Max next. And no matter how much Billy had fought against her being his sister and being close to her, the thought still turned his stomach.

Still, the sight of the poor state of the skateboard made Billy grip the steering wheel tighter, while Max fell into the passenger seat. She immediately stared out the window, shoulders turned so her back was slightly to him and her silence was about as pointed as a knife. It felt like a fucking wall was between them and he didn't know how to break it. He lit a cigarette without saying something and peeled out of the parking lot. Not even blasting his music as loud as his radio could make it got a reaction.

The drive to the arcade want over quickly, thank fuck, and Billy found himself digging out a few quarters from his pocket, which he held out to her. He'd done that in the past, a few times, mostly when he had wanted to bribe Max to stay there as long as possible and sometimes, well, just because.

Max stared at his hand, then at him, eyes hard, before she left the car wordlessly. Billy's hand hung in the air, coins offered and he felt surprised and dumbfound at her dismissal. He let his hand fall and watched as Max bounded over to Harrington and the other shitheads milled around the car. 

Harrington had the window down and his eyebrow was raised, with an expression that spoke volumes about how much he didn't believe _anything_ the kids said. At last, he rolled his eyes and ducked to get something. Harrington held out his wallet a moment later, saying something. The little gremlins descended like a swarm of wasps and at last, the kid with the curly mob of hair handed the wallet back with a cheeky, happy grin. 

Harrington just shooed them off and as they hurried away, Billy heard him shout, "Don't be fucking late this time, shitheads! I have shit to do!"

"Yeah, right!" The curly haired kid shot back, voice amused and sarcastic. Harrington flipped him off, causing the kids to laugh, as they hurried out of the cold and into the arcade. Harrington drove off once they were all inside and Billy bit down on the cigarette in his mouth with enough force that he bit straight through and had to spit the piece out, the bitter taste of nicotine spreading on his tongue like cold ash.

Billy couldn't even say why exactly he was so upset, about Max ignoring him but accepting Harrington. He just knew that it was all his own fault and that thought was enough to turn the burn of anger into something acidic and bitter and cold. He felt fucking ugly, kind of the way vomit looked splattered on asphalt. He didn't know how to deal with it.

Roughly starting his car, he drove off as well, though he went the opposite direction that Harrington had taken. Billy had no idea where to go. He didn't want to go home and after that conversation with Tommy, he didn't feel like hanging out with him either and there were no parties planned later today either or he would have known about it. In the end, he came by a particular store and slowed down, idling beside the sidewalk.

Billy was about to continue driving, when he roughly exhaled and briefly knocked his head against the headrest of his seat, before he parked the car and got out. The wind was bitingly cold and he hunched his shoulders against it, walking with fast steps.

Inside the store, he looked over all the skateboards and other sports equipment and felt genuinely unsure what to choose. Half the boards looked way too fucking big for Max, but then again, what did he know? He had tried skateboarding a few times growing up, but it had never interested him enough to know how to choose a fitting board. Or wheels or whatever the fuck.

But Max needed a new board. Even if Billy didn't feel hideous and guilty, he would have gotten her one eventually, if only to avoid her injuring herself with the broken one and Neil beating his ass for not taking care of it earlier.

"Can I help you?" the clerk behind the counter asked and Billy sauntered up to him.

"Yeah, my, uh, my sister's skateboard broke and she needs a new one," he said and it was weird to call Max his sister. It was the easier descriptor right now, though, than trying to get the clerk to understand that their parents had married, but that that didn't make them siblings. Their family was kind of fucked up, but what else was new.

The clerk asked him a few questions, like how tall Max was and a bunch of other stuff that was too technical for Billy, so he just told the clerk to pick what would fit best and would allow Max to drive around on the roads of Hawkins. Some of which were in piss-poor condition. Billy declined the offer for a painted skateboard or letting it get painted and picking it up once it was done. He honestly had no idea what Max liked and she was pissed off enough already, he didn't want to screw this up too, by picking a skateboard with flames or skulls or flowers and finding out she hated it. Fuck, he didn't even know what her damn favorite color was. 

"It's nice of you, to get her a new one," the clerk said with a smile, after Billy had paid. "I'm sure she'll be happy about it."

Billy resisted the urge to make a face at the man and merely nodded, before grabbing the box and booking it out of there. It was really just the best to get her the skateboard, to avoid her coming home bloodied and maybe crying or whatever.

If Billy was honest, he already half regretted buying the skateboard, but he wasn't going to turn tail and bring it back either. He wasn't a fucking pussy, he could have a damn conversation with Max and maybe it would have the added benefit of her no longer being quite as pissed at him. He was sick and tired of the guilt and maybe it'd stop once she stopped looking at him the way she did.

The box with the skateboard was in the backseat ,when he returned to the arcade, the setting sun casting long shadows across the parking lot. Fucking Harrington was already present and their eyes briefly met. It lasted for all of two seconds, but it left Billy with an uncomfortable awareness of his persisting guilt and that he still wanted to poke at the guy and he chased it away with another cigarette.

The kids piled out of the arcade with laughs and happy faces, playfully shoving each other and slinging arms over shoulders. Billy watched as Max and the kid with the curly hair got into some sort of heated conversation that involved a lot of gesturing and Sinclair grinned at them, before throwing his arm around the shoulders of the kid with the bowl cut, while the last boy rolled his eyes in the fondest, exasperated way Billy had ever seen. Maybe he should ask Max for their names, if only to know what to call them in his head.

Billy's fingers were tapping a restless rhythm against the steering wheel and he tried to pretend he wasn't nervous about this. Thankfully, Max didn't drag her feet, Billy was more than ready to slam the horn and get her to hurry up. When Max opened the car door and dropped into the passenger seat, he already had the car started. She noticed the box on the backseat right away.

"What's that?" she asked, before he could get his cigarette away from his mouth and say something first. It was the first time in over two weeks that she had said something that didn't involve her schedule. Even her face wasn't as closed off as usual and instead there was a puzzled frown pulling at her brows.

"What the fuck do you think, shitbird?" Billy said, voice and words harsher than he had intended. He quickly shoved his cigarette back into his mouth. He resisted the urge to curse when he watched her face become hard and angry again. Fuck, he was off to a _great_ start. "Your other one's broken."

"And whose fault do you think it is," she shot back without a second of hesitation and she straightened in her seat, as though ready for a fight. It was almost impressive, how she managed to suddenly seem bigger than she was. Only, this was for once not the direction Billy wanted to take things.

"Look, shitbird," he said, exhaling roughly and he peeled out of the parking lot, trying to focus on driving and not how this conversation had already derailed within the first ten words. "Take it or leave it, I don't give a fuck."

Her eyes narrowed at him and she glanced back at the box, before her gaze briefly fell to the broken skateboard squeezed between her knees, along with her backpack. A frown was back on her face and Billy saw the moment she caved. The broken skateboard really was too dangerous to use, it was only a matter of time until it would send her falling on her face. Hell, it was probably sheer luck and stubbornness that had kept her safe until now.

Max didn't say anything, as she faced forward again, but at least the fight had drained out of her posture. Billy resisted the urge to sigh with relief. Silence descended on the car, but where it had been tense and charged before, now it just felt... tense and awkward. Billy didn't know what to do about that. At least Max wasn't turning away from him anymore.

Billy opened his mouth, only to realize that he didn't know what to say. Maybe to say sorry, maybe to ask her if she had wanted some stupid flames on her skateboard after all, or maybe some blue wheels or white flowers or whatever the fuck. It just looked like a very ordinary skateboard, but the clerk had reassured him that the board and shit were the best he had to sell. Whatever that meant for a plank of wood on four little wheels.

Billy came to the uncomfortable, unwanted realization that he was bad at this. He didn't know how to apologize, partly because he internally rebelled at the very thought and partly because Max probably wouldn't believe him anyway. It wouldn't magically erase that night or what had happened either.

If anything, the words would probably come out all wrong, like everything else he had tried to say just now and then they'd argue again and things would be even worse than before. At the same time, it burned in him to say or do something. The skateboard was an attempt to patch things up, he grudgingly admitted that to himself, but how it didn't really count, did it? Not after he had broken her old one. It gnawed at him, that he had no idea what to do. How to make things better. That he fucking _cared_ in the first place. When the fuck had that happened anyway?

They arrived at home, without either of them saying anything else. Billy pulled the key from the ignition and to his surprise, Max didn't immediately beeline for the house. A heavy frown was back on her face and she glanced at him, eyes still hard, but her gaze was just a tiny bit less sharp.

"Thanks, for the skateboard. I guess," she said and it was more than he had expected after that long silence. "But don't think you can buy my forgiveness."

Billy felt his face twist. "Like fuck that's what I'm doing!" Though, wasn't he? "Get the fuck out, shitbird."

Max scoffed and grabbed the box, awkwardly pulling it from the backseat. It was rather long and Billy moved to help her after a second. Better he gave her a hand then end up brained by the end of the box. Max frowned at him, once she had the box, her old skateboard and her backpack arranged in her arms, just barely holding onto all of that. Like this, it was so easy to see that she was just a kid. He had kind of forgotten that in the past three weeks, when her gaze had been cutting and her silence unforgiving and suffocating. When he remembered her standing over him, nail studded bat in hand.

He opened his mouth, but found that there was really only one thing he wanted to say. The one thing that had kept burning beneath his ribs for days, the one thing that repeated a loop in his head as much as that night three weeks ago had. Max watched him closely and Billy got the sudden impression, that she was waiting for him to make or break something. To say things that would cement something in her mind. It was one of those strange moments, where he could swear the very atmosphere around him grew quiet and held its breath. He had never liked it and he clenched his teeth.

He remained silent and he noticed her face fall slightly, as though he had managed to disappoint her somehow, even now. He didn't know what to do, didn't know what she wanted from him. Talking wasn't a thing he did, not in the ways that mattered. Not after his mother had disappeared and had stopped calling. His father certainly hated to talk about feelings and Susan barely could meet his eyes and, well, fuck, like he'd tell Max anything anyway. But now that he wanted to say something, his mouth was dry and tongue heavy as lead and no matter what his brain came up with, it wasn't enough.

Billy remained quiet, no words coming forth. He didn't know what to say and he didn't know what to do about the mess of emotions in him, or the guilt that kept fucking haunting his heels, even now. He hated it. But he hated the way Max looked at him even more.

"You know, I can ask Steve to pick me up and drop me off," Max said suddenly and he jerked his head around to stare at her, surprised and bewildered. She lifted her chin. "He would do it and you'd finally be rid of me."

"Don't be fucking stupid," Billy said without thinking, words tumbling out his mouth a bit faster than he had intended. There was a strange lurch in his chest at the thought of Max severing the last line between them. It felt like, if he let her slip away here, she'd never be willing to talk with him again. And fucking Harrington? Shit, what made this guy so fucking great? "I'll drive you."

She frowned at him for a moment and then gave him a sharp glare. "Don't break my skateboard again."

"Yeah, yeah," he said and while he had wanted to wave her off with annoyance, he ended up sounding more...contrite and honest than he had intended. He bit back a grimace. "Don't fucking worry, shitbird." Billy hesitated. That...would be the perfect moment to try and patch things up a bit, wouldn't it? "I..."

His voice trailed off and he cursed. When he didn't speak again, Max waited just a second longer, before scoffing softly again and fumbling for the car door. She had to maneuver her things a bit and Billy resisted the urge to reach over and open the door for her. He would have done that a few weeks ago, when he hadn't yet entirely destroyed and set fire to what little camaraderie had survived their move to Hawkins.

Max got out of the car without his help and walked away, carefully gripping everything, her backpack dangling from two of her fingers. Billy closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the headrest. He dragged his hands over his face and stared up at the roof of the Camaro. How the fuck was he supposed to fix this?

Maybe he couldn't. Maybe he should just leave it like this. A frown pulled on his face at the thought and a sudden flare of anger aimed at himself flared to life in his chest. Like fuck he'd just give up. Billy knew he was a piece of shit, knew if he died that no fucking one would miss him or cry for him, but for damn's sake, he wouldn't be a sniffling _coward_.

Throwing the car door open, he quickly jogged to catch up to her, catching her backpack just as it escaped her grasp. His teeth still felt glued together and he was angry and guilty and everything was a fucking mess, but he... he wanted to do something. What, he didn't know and neither did he know if it would even work. But...he glanced at her and noticed that she looked up at him, a frown on her hard face.

Fuck everything, but he wanted to _try_.

~*~

Steve paused when Max sidled up to him. They had talked a few times over the past month, ever since that night the Gate had been closed. Usually, they spoke with each other when the other shitheads got absorbed in some old adventure they had played and Max had fallen back to walk beside him. From what Steve could gather, Mike was still unsure about her, for all that she had been allowed to join the party and Max seemed unwilling to push too much. She had mentioned once that El didn't seem to like her much, though Dustin had promised that it would be fine, they just had to get to know each other.

"Can I talk to you about something?" Max asked after a moment and she seemed unusually hesitant. Had something happened?

"Sure," he said, frowning slightly down at her.

"It's about Billy," Max said and Steve felt his frown deepen. Max didn't really talk about her brother, but at least she had stopped looking guilty whenever she had caught sight of Steve's face in a bad light. Which, granted, had been every light. He looked better now and he hoped the bruises would be gone completely in another week or two.

"Did something happen?" Steve asked and she sucked in her lower lip to chew on it for a moment.

"I think he's...," she paused. "He's been different, since that night."

"Different how?" Steve asked when she fell silent again. 

Max looked unsure in a way he had only once seen from her before, when she had talked about El disliking her.

"He's quieter, with me. He hasn't yelled once and he...asks if I want to listen to music when we drive and if I want to stay longer at the arcade." She gave a shrug. "Things like that."

Steve didn't know what to say. He had no idea what sort of person Billy was in private, after all and if he was different from the person he was at school.

"I...I think he's...maybe he's sorry?" Max said, though it sounded more like a question. Steve noticed that she glanced up at him as though he knew the answer and it made something in his chest shift uncomfortably. Surely she had someone better to ask than him? Steve didn't even know Billy, you couldn't know a person you didn't really talk to.

Max briefly bit her lip again and continued, "But if he is, _if_ , I don't know how much he means it, or if I just...if I just hope he is. If I just imagine it."

The last part was mumbled into the collar of her jacket and Steve briefly wondered if she had a scarf, she certainly didn't seem like one of the kids who thought themselves cooler than hypothermia. No one was impervious to colds after all. The weather was only getting colder and a nasty storm was approaching. She'd get sick, if she wasn't dressed warmly enough. Not that it was any of his damn business, she had parents to take care of her.

Steve didn't really know what to say. Billy had been quieter since that night, that much was true. Not in the sense that he suddenly became a wallflower, but he had stayed away from Steve. Occasionally, Steve had caught Billy looking at him, but that had been it. No rude gestures, no mean or haughty faces. A few frowns at most and maybe a glare or two. If anything, Billy had seemed strangely closed-off.

"Did he do other things to make you think he's sorry?" Steve asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. 

Ahead of them, Lucas was excitedly recounting some sort of dungeon they had conquered, with Will quietly chiming in about a cool fight and Mike looking serious. Will looked a tad bit better and was firmly sandwiched between his friends. From the sounds of it, they were getting ready for a new campaign and Mike wanted to know what they had enjoyed the most about past games they had played. He certainly had a very focused look on his face, as if he was mentally writing down everything they said.

Max looked at her friends, before hesitantly glancing at him again. It took Steve a moment to realize why she seemed so unsure.

"I don't mind, if you want him to be sorry," he was quick to say. "Honestly, compared to all the shit we faced, Billy wasn't..." He trailed off for a moment. Steve had been about to say 'Billy wasn't that bad' which was and wasn't true. Compared to demo-dogs and Mind Flayers, Steve would always prefer a brawl with Billy. On the other hand, yeah, what Billy had done had been shitty as fucking hell. And fucked up, too.

He sighed and looked back at Max. "I just don't want any of you getting hurt." He bit back a grimace at having to say something so mushy, but if he had learned anything, then that these nerds didn't give a fuck about being emotional. If anything, they made fun of him if he _wasn't_ occasionally a tiny bit mushy. And Max looked like she needed a heart-to-heart more than she needed Steve to be aloof and cool. Which he still was, he still was very cool, mind you. He was just getting a bit better at dealing with these shitheads, too.

Max's face, however, turned hard and unyielding at his words. "That's why I don't want to forgive him, if he ever apologizes. What if I do and he hurts you again? Any of you?" She hesitated and there was frustration and hurt in her eyes, mixed with a spark of stubborn, almost childish hope on her face. Steve didn't really understand the relationship between siblings, even step-siblings, considering he was an only child. But he understood the wish that maybe, there was still some way for things to be better again, even if everything had gone to shit. Max continued, "But what if he _means_ it? Does he deserve a second chance?"

Steve, once again, honestly didn't know what to say. He would fine with it, he supposed, if everyone wanted to forgive Billy, as long as they didn't expect him to hang out with the guy. Steve didn't want any of them to get hurt, same as Max. All he personally knew of Billy, was that he was a bully and a flirt and that he was the lesser evil when compared to monsters from other dimensions. Which wasn't a ringing endorsement.

On the other hand, Steve hadn't been a particularly good person last year either, so how much right did he have to be the judge of second chances? He winced internally when he remembered what he had written about Nancy and the fight he had started with Jonathan out of pure, ugly jealousy. In all honesty, if Jonathan had sucked at fighting or if Steve had been better at it, he probably would have given Jonathan a concussion or something equally nasty. He had been too angry and upset and, yes, hurt in that moment to not be vindictive. But, Jonathan had been better at throwing punches, so Steve had been saved from being even more of an asshole.

He was glad, now, that it had never come that far, but that didn't excuse his shittyness. So, glass houses and stones and all that, he really had no leg to stand on, when it came to deciding who and who didn't deserved forgiveness. Though, Steve liked to think that he had grown a bit as a person since then. He certainly had accepted it with more grace when Nancy had chosen Jonathan over him.

Steve dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. "Look, I'm not the right person to ask about that, I've been a real jerk before. I guess you could say that I'm the one with the second chance here."

Max considered him for a long moment and she frowned thoughtfully. "So second chances can help?"

He really wasn't the right person for this. Maybe he could push the rugrats off to Nancy? Hell, Jonathan seemed to have a better grasp on this emotions and any sort of philosophical shit than he did. "Maybe? I don't know. I guess it only works if he wants it. If he doesn't want to change, a second chance is pretty useless, don't you think?"

Hopefully that was decent enough advice, he didn't know why the kids came to him for that anyway. Steve felt like he held his own life together by pure will and he wasn't even an adult, not really. He might be eighteen, but he barely got his homework done in time and still felt heartbroken over Nancy. He wouldn't take his own advice if he had to.

"Thanks, Steve," Max said after a moment and Steve huffed softly, reaching out with one hand to tousle her hair. It had the desired effect of her ducking away with an affronted noise and she glared at him half-heartedly. Steve shooed her back to her friends and she stuck her tongue out at him, while she caught up with the others.

"What do you think, Max?" Lucas asked immediately and Steve was glad to see the parking lot come into view. He talked the shitheads into getting food from the diner across the street, since that was better than the shit at the arcade. "We could have an awesome dungeon crawl and -"

The rest went entirely over Steve's head. Monster names and spells and character stats got thrown around and he was honestly impressed that they managed to remember all that shit, along with all their schoolwork and their nerdy hobbies on top. These kids were too damn smart for their own good.

The kids discussed details and argued over which moments were the best or which big bad evil had been the most fun to defeat, all the way through the arcade parking lot to the waiting cars. Steve watched the kids mill around for a moment longer, prolonging the inevitable parting of ways for the day. Jonathan was already waiting and stood outside the car, smiling a soft little smile at his brother. Billy was there as well, though he sat in his car and the light of the setting sun across his windshield made it hard to see more than his vague outline.

"Alright shitheads," Steve said, removing his hands form his pocket to shoo at them. "Get going, I still have shit to do and you have homework."

The kids moved along easily enough, thankfully. Some days they were prone to arguing and drawing their time together out as much as possible. Steve watched as Will and Mike walked towards Jonathan, while Max headed for Billy. Dustin and Lucas were walking ahead of him, while he was fiddling with the car keys. As the kids got into his car, with Dustin claiming the passenger seat as always, Steve found himself looking back to Billy's car. The conversation with Max replayed in his head, as he watched her get in and Billy peeled out of the parking lot as soon as the door was closed.

Second chances were weird. Steve still didn't know what qualified someone to get one or if there were any rules to them and how they worked. He was pretty certain that the only reason he had been given one, had been because Nancy had cared for him and he had realized what an asshole he had been and had tried to apologize. 

What if Billy tried to do the same? Max had mentioned that he seemed...mellower than before, that was the best word Steve could think of, even if it didn't feel quite right. When he saw Billy at school, the guy moved with the same swagger and confidence, head held high and eyes unflinching.

Apologizing didn't make things okay, Steve knew that, but was it enough for a second chance? His memory of that night at the Byers was kind of weird. It was probably because of the concussion and the buckets of adrenaline, but mostly he remembered Billy grabbing Lucas and the racing of his heart as he had stepped in and after that plate, most of the night just dissolved into frightening demo-dogs and the screams and shouts of the kids down in the creepy tunnels. Of Dustin not getting up the hole in time and Steve grabbing him in a last ditch effort to maybe save his life.

Steve watched the Camaro speed down the street with a small frown, before he got into his car as well. Lucas and Dustin were still chatting with each other, with Dustin half turned around in his seat and Lucas leaning forward, sitting at the edge of the backseats.

Steve drove them home and got a box of freshly baked cookies from the Sinclair's and a Tupperware of homemade lasagna from Mrs. Henderson, as thanks for taking care of their sons. His home, when he arrived, was quiet and cold and dark. The cleaning service had been by during the day and everything still smelled faintly of the cleaning supplies they had used. His parents would be gone a while longer, but he could expect them back for Christmas at the latest.

Steve put the food away and switched on the heating. He got some more studying done, but he'd always had struggled with long stretches of time and sometimes all that information overwhelmed him. He missed Nancy and those practical, fancy little cards she had made. Maybe, if he could just get over himself, they could study together again, one day. Meet in the afternoons and really learn, not just pretend to. Be friends and hang out. Maybe even with Jonathan, even if that thought alone was still too hard for Steve to contemplate for long.

The teachers had gone easy on him during his recovery, giving him little homework and letting him skip out on tests, but that time was over now. He still was forbidden from participating in basketball practice, though. He would only be allowed back to practice after winter break, just to be on the safe side.

Steve secretly worried about his grades and getting into college. His parents, especially his father, would be pissed if he failed at that. He didn't like thinking about it, but it certainly didn't help him with concentrating on his studies either. It was a slight bit of constant dread that clung to his nape whenever he pulled out his schoolwork. 

Steve went to sleep at a reasonable time, though he left the lights in the hallway on, so a strip of light fell into his room. He knew his parents wouldn't have allowed it if they were home, but he occasionally had nightmares and it helped calm him if he woke up to some light. Thankfully, it didn't happen too often, but having the lights on anyway gave him a measure of comfort.

School, the next day, was the same as always. Steve slunk into class, either on time or just barely in time and tried to focus on the lesson, though he found his mind wandering a few times despite himself. Lunch was a mixture of painful and plain awkward. Nancy seemed determined to not let him sit without friends and she brought Jonathan along at times. Not always, though, which was a relief to Steve. Jonathan seemed to be up to his own thing during lunch break, just like before, but he came along every other day. At least they never acted like a couple around him, which made things marginally better.

Steve was stupidly glad about it. He wouldn't exactly have sat alone, there were still enough people who thought he was cool enough, but he found he wasn't really interested with hanging out with strangers. Or people who just wanted something from him and not truly cared about really getting to know him. And he was tired of friends like Tommy and Carol.

So he was glad for Nancy and her stubborn streak. He'd rather suffer through the remaining heartbreak than face the tense awkwardness of being an almost outcast but not quite. Nancy was still great, that hadn't changed and once he had asked her for help with a class he struggled with, they had something harmless to talk about while eating. Or rather, she talked and he just hummed along.

At least it was the last school year, Steve told himself. Just a few more months of this and then it'd be over and the dread would be over and he'd get to figure out what the fuck to do next. Not that he had any idea what he wanted to do with his future.

After school, Steve drove to pick up the kids, when he noticed Billy driving ahead of him. They pulled onto the parking lot after another and headed to their usual spots. They were early today, since their last class had ended a bit earlier than usual, since their teacher wasn't feeling well. So the parking lot was mostly empty, aside from one or two other parents, who had already arrived.

Steve could see the Camaro from the corner of his eye and the conversation with Max surfaced again. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel and Steve looked away, before he sighed. He wanted to do something, but he didn't know what. Could he just talk to Billy? And how should he even start the conversation? 'Hi my name is Steve, I'm sure you remember beating my face in, how are you doing today?'

He was so caught in his thoughts, that he startled when he noticed a knock at his window. Glancing up, he was surprised to see Billy standing there, jacket open and looking amused at Steve's reaction for just a moment. Confused and a bit apprehensive, Steve rolled down the window and lifted a questioning eyebrow.

Billy made a face and suddenly held out a fistful of coins. "Give them to Max, she doesn't take them from me." The words were ground out, as if he had to force himself to say them and he certainly looked like he didn't want to do this.

"Okay," Steve said slowly, holding out his hand and Billy unceremoniously handed his quarters over. "Why?" he asked before he could think better of it.

Billy shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It was too thin, in Steve's opinion and by the way Billy had his shoulders pulled up against the cold wind, it didn't seem to keep him all that warm. And he wasn't wearing a scarf either, like Max. What was it with the damn Hargroves and not having proper winter gear? Did they not know it would only get colder?

For a moment, Steve thought that Billy would simply turn around and leave, pretend this whole moment had never happened. He kind of looked like a cat that had gotten wet and now tried to pretend that it didn't hate absolutely everything.

"I've seen you give money to the shitheads. She'll accept it from you." Billy gave a shrug and then turned around and walked away, head ducking down when a stronger breeze brushed over the parking lot. Steve rolled the window up again, to keep the cold from seeping in even more.

He stared down at his hand of coins and blinked in surprise. That was quite the amount. Maybe twenty coins or something. Not that he was going to count, that was none of his business. Shoving the coins into the pocket of his jacket, Steve noticed that more and more cars started to arrive. Moms and dads and other older siblings that came to pick up their family members.

People were used to seeing him around and Steve no longer felt awkward and out of place. They knew he was with Dustin and the Sinclairs had asked him to pick up Lucas as well. They and Mrs. Henderson were always very kind to him, offering to pay for gas and always handing him some food or baked cookies and, on one occasion, even slices of freshly baked cake.

Dustin and Lucas hurried into his car, making relieved noises when they escaped the cold. Steve raised an eyebrow at them.

"You know," he drawled, while he started the car. "If you'd zip up your jackets, you wouldn't be cold."

"Pff, what for?" Dustin waved him off. "You always park close to the school, so we were in the cold for what, ten seconds? Don't be an old man, Steve, you're cooler than that."

Steve rolled his eyes, though he felt ridiculously pleased that Dustin thought he was cool. They headed for the arcade and Steve listened as Dustin and Lucas regaled him with what had happened in their day, from Lucas getting Max to join them in the AV club to a girl named Annie shooting down Dustin's attempts to invite her to the school ball.

"Isn't the ball still a bit away?" Steve asked with a glance at Dustin, who pretended to look unaffected by being turned down. He reached out and rubbed over Dustin's cap, which made the kid smile even as he ducked away.

"It's never a bad thing to take care of things early," Dustin said with a shrug and he sounded like he was quoting someone. Maybe his mother or Mike or someone else he knew.

"Hm." Steve gave the kid a nudge with his elbow. "You'll get a date in time then."

"You think?" Dustin asked, a grin spreading over his face and Steve couldn't help but think that he was stupidly adorable. He reached out again to grab the front of Dustin's cap and he tugged it down slightly, making Dustin splutter when his eyes were covered.

"You'll be fine," Steve told him once he had his cap adjusted with a grumble and a half-hearted glare. At Steve's words, the last bit of hurt from the rejection faded from his face.

They reached the arcade a moment later and both Dustin and Lucas leaned forward with hopeful, excited faces. Steve rolled his eyes.

"Vultures, the whole lot of you. Don't you have parents to leech money from?" he asked, rooting for his wallet and being more than aware of the extra handful of coins that rattled around in his other pocket.

"My mom gave me some," Lucas admitted. "But you know we always share."

Steve knew and he knew that Mike's parents often forgot to give him some extra money for the arcade and that the Byers weren't well off. Most of whatever quarters he threw at the hungry, metaphorical maws of the shitheads ended up distributed to Will and at times Mike. And, well, until now Max had been included in that.

Before Steve knew it, the other kids had caught up to his car, faces slowly reddening in the cold and their faces impatient and thankful and excited. Steve shooed Dustin and Lucas out of the car and handed his quarters over. He didn't mind. His father left him with more than enough money and Steve had learned be responsible with it early on. He had to buy his own food and clothes and school supplies, since his father wanted him to be independent and smart with money. 

Steve had used his leftover money for parties before and then when he had dated Nancy, he had used some of it to take her on nice dates, the few times they went out of Hawkins or to a diner. Now, whatever quarters remained from his shopping trips, Steve threw at the kids. It made them happy and he wouldn't admit it, but he liked seeing their faces light up. It wasn't like Steve gave them money every time either. He collected his quarters over a week or so and when he had enough, maybe a spare dollar or two too, he gave it to them. And, well, as long as his father kept leaving him money so he could take care of himself while he was still at school, Steve could afford making them happy.

"Max," he said when the kids were hurrying away and she stopped in surprise to turn back to him. Steve dug Billy's coins out of his coat and held them out to her. "For you."

Her face was surprised and then became confused. "Why is there extra for me?"

Steve contemplated lying, but he didn't want to. And if Billy really was trying to do better, Max should know. Otherwise it was just counterproductive. Or so he imagined.

"From your brother," he answered. Max eyes got wide for a moment and she stared at his outstretched hand in baffled surprise.

"Why?" she asked and then frowned heavily. "He talked to you?"

Steve shrugged. "It was fine, he barely said anything. And you'd have to ask him why. Here, take them." Steve shook his hand at her. "If you want, think of it this way: You're having fun at his expense."

The words teased a reluctant, faint smile from her. Max glanced back at the Camaro that was still idling in the parking lot, when Billy usually fucked off the moment Max was with her friends. A complicated expression crossed her face, before she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She grabbed the coins from Steve's hand.

"Everyone will have fun at Billy's expense," she said, determined and defiant, but Steve thought he detected some amusement as well. He gave her a smile.

"Go, shoo. And tell the shitheads be ready to leave in time," he reminded her and she left with a nod. Her friends were waiting by the doors, huddled together like a bunch of birds and coats open like they were idiots. Steve stuck his head out of the open window. "And get a scarf for fucks sake!"

He wasn't sure if Max heard him or not, because she had reached her friends in that moment. But, again, she had family of her own, it was their job to make sure she wouldn't get sick come winter.

Pulling out of the parking lot, Steve resigned himself to study until he had to pick the rugrats up again. He had barely kept up with some of his classes before, but with the concussion, he had started to fall behind. At lest it was just in some of his classes, he wasn't struggling with everything, but he had to do something about it. He _had_ to get into college.

Two days later, Steve was pleasantly surprised when he saw Max leave the school with a brand-new scarf wrapped around her neck. She even had gloves now. Finally. Maybe the Hargroves just had to catch up on buying winter gear. California was pretty warm after all.

When they had met up at his car to say hello and then hurry into the arcade, Max briefly fell back. Steve gave her a questioning look and noticed that she seemed...tentatively happy.

"Billy got me those," she gestured at her scarf and gloves. "Well, my mom said he told her I didn't have enough stuff for winter and that he picked it up with her money when he got groceries." She pressed her lips together and her voice grew quieter. "I think...maybe he's trying."

"You know him better than I do," Steve said, but even he had to admit that it looked like that. "Let him work for it, yeah?"

That made her chuckle and she gave him a grin. "I'm planning to. See you later, Steve!"

With those words she hurried away and Steve started to roll his window up again. The inside of his car had gotten too cold already. He hoped he was right in encouraging Max's hope. Hopefully, Billy really was trying and she wouldn't end up getting hurt again.

It was entirely unintentional, that his gaze fell to Billy's Camaro once his window was back up. He realized that Billy was looking at him as well and their eyes met. Steve noticed the small frown on Billy's face, before he looked away and peeled out of the parking lot.

Steve had no idea what to think about Billy. But Max cared and after driving the kids and unintentionally hanging out with them at times, Steve had started to care about them. For Max's sake, he hoped she was right and that Billy really was trying.

Steve tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and decided to wait and to listen when Max needed to talk. He wasn't good for many things, but he could do that much. At least, Nancy had always said she appreciated that he could listen and those damn kids had grown on him, despite himself. Steve decided to blame Dustin for it. Him and his insane idea to raise a demo-dog and that he had dragged Steve into it. Steve didn't regret it, though. No matter the ugliness, the monsters and horror and screams he could remember ringing in his ears, he wouldn't change a damn thing.

Well, no, he would have tried harder with Nancy, if he had known. Or maybe would have let her go sooner. But even that was a lesson learned, painful as it was.

Steve drove off himself, thinking about the aftermath of everything that happened before and during the closure of the Gate. Max seemed a bit lighter these last few days, Will had lost some of his sickly paleness, Mike was happy and love-sick and Dusting and Lucas were cheerful smartasses. Yeah, maybe things were getting better.

If only his schoolwork and broken heart would get the same memo.


End file.
